PussyHunter

SLAP!

I cracked my hand hard across her ass.

“Shut the fuck up, you cock-sucking corpse.”

The ritual was as cliché as they come—candles and a magic circle full of half-assed runes and symbols—but it worked way too well. It glowed bright and hard, which meant the bitch was pouring every drop of her hellish aura into trying to break free. Too late for this undead whore.

I made damn sure her wrists were locked tight with iron chains—I never leave home without them. That killed her intangibility on the spot.

SLAP!

“Ah! Nhg…” she let out a low, throaty growl.

“Firm little ass, huh? For a dead girl, you’re a real treat.”

SLAP!

“Th… that hurts! F-fuck!” When she spoke it came out like a howling lament.

“Wait, aren’t you supposed to be dead? Thought you couldn’t feel pain anymore…”

SLAP!

“ARGH!”

Another one, hard enough that my own palm stung. I kept laying into that white-blue, rotting ass. Even in that state it was still ridiculously firm for a ghost. Go figure. I’d seen enough fucked-up shit not to be surprised by much anymore.

A ghost. Or more precisely: a bride-ghost. There she was inside the circle, chained, face-down, ass up. The wedding dress wasn’t white anymore—filthy, torn, crumpled. The bodice was ripped open, dead tits spilled out onto the floor, pale and lifeless. And the important part: that ass stuck up exactly the way I wanted, putting her asshole and pussy on full display. Her skin had that gray-blue tone of meat that had already rotted and come back. Hair was a wreck, wet and plastered to her face. And the eyes… just two black holes with a sickly yellow glow.

This wasn’t any official hunt contract. I just stopped at the wrong time in the wrong place. Think about it: you’re dying to take a piss in the middle of nowhere—why not use an abandoned house by the side of the road? Beats whipping it out on the highway and having some random asshole drive by and catch you. Then this fucking thing showed up. Didn’t even get to piss. Came straight at me screaming and snarling. Had to haul ass before her rot touched me. If it had, I’d have been screwed.

If I’d been some clueless civilian, the poor bastard would’ve gotten his ass wrecked. But luck wasn’t on her side—I wasn’t clueless. She was the one about to get her ass (and everything else) fucked.

Thankfully these things aren’t omniscient. Dumb as babies. They only know what’s right in front of them. I drove my pure iron knife—rusted and soaked in the good old holy water, always ready—straight into her skull. That stunned her. I tried to run, but she was still floating after me, slow and steady.

A spiteful little thought crossed my mind:

“You know what… this cunt interrupted my piss. She’s gonna pay for that.” I muttered it to myself, pissed off about the interrupted leak.

Any other night I would’ve just bailed. But this was personal. Nobody interrupts my piss.

While she was still sluggish I ran to the trunk of my beloved Challenger and grabbed the basic kit: a few candles, an iron chain, and chalk to draw the circle.

I used her lag, circled the house, and scratched a quick circle on the floor of the living room. It’d do. This class of apparition is pretty weak, but it can still give you a headache if it catches you off guard.

I stepped into the circle and yelled:

“Hey, you whore! Still sad your husband dumped you and blew his own brains out?! While you were standing at the altar he was in the church bathroom fucking your sister!”

The roar she let out told me I’d hit pretty close to home. She came flying straight at me—exactly according to plan. I jumped aside and she sailed right into the circle, locked up, and started dropping to her knees.

“Y-you bastard…”

“Dumb fucking bitch…”

I had the iron chain around her arms in seconds. I noticed the cuts on her wrists then—so I’d actually guessed right on pure luck. She’d killed herself. Odds were good it had something to do with the cheating, but that wasn’t my business.

“Don’t touch me!”

I ignored her, pulled the lighter from my pocket, lit the candles around the circle, and recited the binding phrase for ghost apparitions. I’d said it so many times I knew it backwards:

“In the name of Almighty God, let the evil spirits depart from me, and may the good ones serve as a rampart against them!”

The creature was forced to her knees and collapsed onto her stomach, thrashing, howling, screaming, little green flames starting to lick across her body.

“You cockblocked my piss, you know that?”

“Ngh… ARGH!”

“Why the fuck did you have to interrupt? All I wanted was to take a leak. I couldn’t have given less of a shit about you or your sad little life.” I sighed. “Ah, fuck it.”

I dropped my pants, pulled my cock out, and started pissing right on her head—that perfect, delicious relief after holding it forever.

“Ahh… fuck yeah…” I sighed deep while the stream hit her hair, her mouth, her eyes. When it finally stopped: “Now… time to fuck.” I gave a crooked little smile.

This was kind of my job, but sometimes you got a nice bonus—hot little demonesses that actually felt good to rail. Loved exorcising the succubi. Those things were insatiable in the sack.

I didn’t waste time. Shoved my pants down to my knees. My cock was already throbbing against my stomach just from the sight of that firm, lifeless round ass. I grabbed her cold, dead hips and didn’t even aim properly—just shoved my cock straight into that ghost pussy.

“AAAAHHH!” The bride-ghost screamed, howling, and that only made me harder.

I was on my knees behind her, the leather jacket starting to warm up from the movement even though it was night and an apparition was supposed to make everything cold. And there it was—my holy weapon against her: my blessed twenty-four-centimeter cock, thick as a forearm, buried every last inch to the hilt. Every thrust was wet, deep, the whole thing disappearing inside that freezing, tight cunt.

The feeling was completely different from a regular pussy. Because she was already dead, her insides were decomposed, so the womb was rotten enough that my cock could punch straight through it. I was balls-deep with no uterine wall to stop me. The head was pressing against something soft and ice-cold I didn’t even want to think about. It was pretty disgusting, actually—really disgusting—but after a while you get used to it.

The sound was filthy: living skin slapping dead skin, the wet noise of something that had no business being wet, my cock sliding through rotting organs.

PLOC.

PLOC.

PLOC.

PLOC.

My balls were smacking hard against her swollen, bluish pussy.

“Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah—” she moaned with every hit. They always claimed they didn’t like it, but they were one thrust away from crying on a dick.

“Fuck…” I growled through my teeth, voice already rough. “For a walking corpse, your cunt’s pretty fucking wet, huh?”

The Corpse Bride let out a distorted, guttural moan while her body started to tighten. I knew that feeling well.

“Eee… eee… I…”

I sped up, laughing low, satisfied.

“Already about to cum? Didn’t even take two minutes. You were that desperate for me to fuck you like this?”

I yanked her hips back onto my cock with everything I had. My nails tore into the decomposing flesh—I didn’t stop—and buried it all the way. Her pale stomach gave a slight bulge from the volume.

She howled, the sound coming out like a lament from under the earth. She even tried to crawl forward, but the chains on her wrists wouldn’t let her, and neither would I. The circle, the chant, and the knife in her skull helped too.

“Get back here, you whore. I’m not done.” I growled through my teeth, dragging her back. “Since your husband was cheating on you, consider this payback—you giving that cunt to someone else for a change.”

I grabbed a fistful of her hair—wet with God-knows-what and piss—with one hand, yanked her head back, and with the other kept hold of the knife. Then I fucked her with every ounce of power my hips had. My cock stretched her inner walls with every thrust. The corpse bride was shaking. Her whole body jolted. A long, broken moan spilled out of her throat, mixed with something that sounded like crying and growling at the same time.

“Eee… ah… I…”

I felt the cold walls of her pussy clamp down on my cock. I forced it until my balls were trying to push in too. Held it there, pulling her hair and the knife so hard it felt like I was about to rip both clean off.

“Come on, you fucking bitch. Cum. Cum on this dick! Quit the drama!”

I yanked harder. The whole chunk of hair I was holding tore out by the roots and stayed in my hand.

The Corpse Bride arched her back violently. Her bound hands clenched into fists. A demonic scream ripped through the room:

“Ah… I’m… gonna cum… Aaaahhhhhh!”

The orgasm hit like a death spasm. Her whole body locked up, thighs shaking out of control, arms thrashing hard against the iron chains, her pussy pulsing and squeezing my cock in strong waves. I felt that freezing grip suck at me while a near-black liquid squirted out of her cunt. I kept fucking her through the orgasm—slick, deep, no mercy—tossing the piss-soaked hair onto the floor. I’ll admit it: when they came they clenched and milked your cock just like a regular human, and it felt a hell of a lot better.

She collapsed onto the floor, gasping nonstop like she had nothing left. My cock slipped out of her pussy, filthy.

Then the green fire flared stronger.

It started at her bound hands. Low green flames with no real heat, climbing her arms, her neck, the torn dress. The corpse bride’s body started shaking harder, her scream turning into a sharp, distorted lament while she clenched her thighs, still slick with that black squirt. I didn’t stop. I was close myself, and since I was already there I was gonna finish. Otherwise she’d dematerialize and I’d have to jerk off, and let’s be real: between cumming in my hand or cumming inside a ghost corpse’s pussy that was squirting black sludge and still contracting, the answer was obvious. I grabbed her hips hard and came inside, hot thick ropes of cum flooding that cold cunt while the green fire swallowed her body.

“AAAHHH… AAAHHH… I… I… AHHHH… FUCK…” Her moans were terrifying—a real haunting, an infernal howl that would’ve scared the shit out of any unsuspecting tough guy.

“There’s your exorcism, you slut!”

In seconds the apparition came apart. The dress collapsed empty onto the floor, slowly dissolving. The green flames vanished. All that was left was the smell of wet earth, sludge, and sex, and the magic circle fading, shifting from red back to plain white chalk.

I stayed on my knees in the middle of the empty room, breathing hard, cock still twitching, dripping a mix of cum and whatever the hell had come out of that haunted pussy.

I grabbed a scrap of the dress that was left and wiped my cock clean. Fuck it if I caught an infection—this is the twenty-first century, there’s medicine for everything, even if a supernatural infection would still be a new one.

I cleaned the rest of the cum and the dark green slime off on the fabric, stood up, and zipped my pants. Ran a hand through my hair and let out a long breath, staring at the empty space for a while, then down at the floor—the chalk circle all sprayed with the sludge from her cunt.

“Jesus Christ… all I wanted was to take a piss in peace.”

I was reeking of sludge, sweat, sex, and wet dirt. Needed to find somewhere to wash the fuck off, fast.

“Cunt… should’ve blown out your asshole too…”

I picked my rusted knife up off the floor and put it away. It was a little past two in the morning, middle of nowhere farm country with zero cell signal… At this point even a river would do. And in the end I hadn’t made a single fucking cent.